


If I Asked

by missbeizy



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dom/sub Undertones, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First time sexy stuff (references to frottage, grinding, handjobs and fingering).</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Asked

"Ten minutes, boys," Burt calls, finger in the air and brow crinkled. 

"I don't even need ten minutes to put a fabulous Monopoly-inspired playlist together," Kurt scoffs, waving a hand behind him; he doesn't need to turn to know that his dad is smirking at him fondly.

Blaine is a warm presence at his elbow. They don't say a word to each other all the way to his room, but once they get there Blaine moves to close the door and Kurt catches his wrist. 

"He'll be listening for that," Kurt says. 

But even silent, rushed kisses with Blaine are lovely, and ten minutes is more than enough time to steal many of them.

They edge inside wearing matching, excited grins, leaving the door open maybe four inches or so. Blaine reaches down and clasps Kurt's hand in his, using the leverage to turn them so that Kurt's back is to the door. His thumb turns warm circles against the inside of Kurt's wrist, fingering the pounding of his pulse.

Blaine licks his lips.

Kurt snaps his eyes upward, whispering, "We shouldn't." He doesn't really mean it, but he loves teasing Blaine just before they get intimate, loves the way Blaine's face scrunches up.

"Shh," Blaine hushes, raising a finger to his lips and then leaning forward, replacing the digit with his mouth.

It's a sweet, soft, wet drag of a kiss, and Kurt's heart pounds against his chest as he allows himself to sink into it, allows the warmth and the tingling to spread throughout his body. Blaine's arms slide around his waist and he feels a noise crest and die in his throat; the sensation of being held, safe and loved, against Blaine's chest, is overwhelming in combination with kisses that by themselves make him dizzy.

It's like coming home. It's like every wild fantasy Kurt had ever had of One Day. One Day I'll find him, One Day this will feel right, One Day I'll trust him--

Blaine's heart is in his eyes, as it so often is. When they break apart to breathe--trembling riffs in the warm air between them, a note of panic because if they so much as whimper Kurt's dad might hear--Kurt stares into those honey-colored eyes, shaking with want and adoration. They're so intense tonight and their pupils so wide.

"It's been a long week," Blaine whispers, brushing their noses together. "I just--I just had to kiss you." His face and ear tips are red, and Kurt feels something in his chest give way.

"It's been a long couple of weeks," Kurt whispers back, an embarrassed flush at his cheek. 

He doesn't want to sound needy or--or demanding. But he can't stop obsessing over the details of the last time they were able to actually be alone, the last time that he'd felt Blaine's body shiver and twist against his.

Blaine's fingers crawl up his back and close in a fist around his shoulder blade just as a plaintive whine escapes his lips. "God, Kurt, I miss--"

"Me, too," Kurt breathes, twisting a hand into Blaine's hair and kissing him harder. He listens to the noise of his family moving around with one ear, and to Blaine's breath puffing excitedly against his lips in between kisses with the other. 

Sometimes he really hates being a teenager.

He can't stop thinking about it, the first time they pushed their underwear around their thighs and held each other and didn't even talk about it because they were both so embarrassed, but they hadn't needed words when their bodies lined up, when Kurt had began rolling his hips. 

They'd stared, wide-eyed and flustered, at each other in the semi-darkness of Blaine's bedroom, shock and trust and desire and love in every blink as they moved together, feeling the hot, dry glide of each other, so hard that it almost hurt, the newness of gasps and murmurs of pleasure rising, Blaine's fingernails digging into his back and his face against Blaine's, the way it had felt when Blaine had tensed under him, the wet spill between their bellies, realizing how far they'd gone without meaning to--

Shaking, he realizes that Blaine's mouth is drawing little suckles against his collarbone and their hips are pressed together against the door.

"Blaine," he whispers, head falling back.

"I know, I know," Blaine answers urgently, pulling away. "Sorry."

Kurt breathes out a chuckle, turning his face against Blaine's and kissing at his ear. "Don't apologize, dummy."

"Kurt, Blaine; get a move on!" Burt shouts.

They groan, but their time is definitely up and they both know it.

Typically, Family Night has the power to drown any urges; Kurt would never admit it for fear of making Blaine think that his feelings are so easily subverted, but the truth is that between his dad's presence and Finn chewing Doritos open-mouthed, Kurt is as far from that happy place as he can get.

On the flip side, it takes maybe three seconds of looking at Blaine long enough to catch one of those brief, hesitant, overwhelmed glances for his calmness to be converted to excitement.

Blaine is--well. 

He's still the contained, polite, dapper gentleman that Kurt had fallen in love with. But beneath that exterior he's also a hungry teenage boy; Kurt still can't quite get over just how much and how often Blaine wants to be close to him. And the way that he gives over to it, the noises he makes and how his body moves, it's all so natural, so shameless, and god what Kurt wouldn't give to be like that, to just let go and give--

"Your move," Finn says, nudging him in the side. "Come on, dude."

Kurt snaps out of it, cheeks blazing.

Blaine is staring at him across the board, eyes dancing curiously.

Kurt chucks a game piece at his head and sticks his tongue out.

It isn't until Kurt walks Blaine to his car that they get another moment alone, and even though it's pitch black and there isn't a neighbor in sight, Kurt feels just a little uncomfortable with how heated their goodbye gets.

His hands are cupping Blaine's lower back, just shy of the swell of his butt, and Blaine's fingers are moving through the hair at the back of his head in a stroke that is neither shy nor gentle. Their bodies are apart but they might as well be plastered together for how dirty the kisses are, full of tongue and teeth.

Kurt's been trying to think of a polite way to suggest they get into the backseat of Blaine's car for the last five minutes. The thought surprises him--not six months ago he would've been scandalized by the very idea.

"Please," Blaine murmurs, pulling him in closer.

That one little word sends Kurt's belly into a swoop. "Oh my god, I'm sorry, you need to go, I'm--we're outside, this is so tacky--" 

It hits him all at once that maybe Blaine isn't comfortable with this. It wasn't like this before, desperate and thoughtless. What's gotten into him?

Blaine looks sweetly embarrassed when Kurt finally manages to look him in the eye. "I'm not offended, Kurt," he says softly, nuzzling his face against Kurt's throat. "I'm just--" He stops, looking at Kurt again. "I really, really want to be alone with you." He swallows with difficulty, eyes roaming Kurt's face and throat. "Is that okay?"

Kurt can't hear anything above the roar of his own pulse. He brushes his fingertips across Blaine's jaw shyly. "More than okay."

"My parents are going to a function on Saturday," Blaine says, voice cracking just a little. "Just for a few hours, but--we could, um."

Kurt's face grows hot again. He forces himself to look Blaine in the eye. "I'm helping Dad in the shop, but just for the morning, so I can--I can come over."

 

 

*

 

 

Which is how he finds himself on top of Blaine that Saturday afternoon on the couch in Blaine's living room. They probably should have relocated to the bedroom about a dozen heated kisses ago, but Blaine hasn't suggested it and Kurt is more than happy to stay, rucking up Blaine's shirt with a hesitant hand while Blaine claws his back and whimpers every time that Kurt nibbles his ear.

Every time that Blaine's hands creep low and brush Kurt's ass they flutter away nervously moments later. Kurt has directed them back there with a shuffling, embarrassed nudge about six times now, and part of him just wants to scream.

Blaine is always so careful, and for a long time Kurt had needed that like air; he was just as scared, just as reserved, and so appreciative of the fact that they were on the same page. But it's been months and his body is humming and if Blaine doesn't even feel comfortable initiating a groping session than Kurt doesn't know what to do to fix that.

He supposes he could say something. But the thought of those words--and what words would they even be?--coming out of his mouth terrifies him. What if he says the wrong thing and gives the wrong impression? What if Blaine isn't ready for anything more and the only result of that conversation is Kurt scaring him away?

He doesn't even remember what they'd done to get there the one time they'd finished together, rubbing and only a little bit naked. He does recall a distinct lack of talking, however. Maybe that's the problem.

And now that he's there mentally he just keeps remembering Blaine's--he blushes, forcing himself to think the word if not say it--cock, hard and warm and delicious sliding against his own, the rhythmic give and take of their hips as they pressed together, using their stomachs for friction. He remembers the stifled, high-pitched noises Blaine had breathed out, and the one time he'd spit Kurt's name, right before he--

Kurt goes still, gasping. "Wait."

Blaine goes still, hands off, mouth off, so fast that it almost gives them both whiplash. "Sorry. Did I...?"

Did you almost make me come in my pants just by existing? Yes.

And then there's Blaine's face, handsome and flushed and sweaty at the hairline, and Kurt's body just wants.

"No, it's me," Kurt finally admits.

"Am I doing something different?" Blaine asks, squeaky and breathless.

Kurt stares down at him; he's wearing a simple cardigan over a short-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans that fit him deliciously well. His hair is still gelled from this morning but it's beginning to break into clumps, especially where Kurt's fingers had gone searching. His cheeks are pink and his eyes watery-wide. 

God. 

He looks so good, and the urge to do everything, to take off his clothes and see him and taste him is tangible at the back of Kurt's throat, tormenting him with every breath. 

At the same time it's like having a beautiful, expensive bolt of fabric in his hot little hands only to panic because what will he make and what if he messes it up, what if he wastes it? What if it never reaches its full potential because he just doesn't have the skill to transform it? How badly can he actually screw this up?

Blaine leans up and kisses his throat. "Kurt?"

"I think I need to stop."

"Okay," Blaine replies, slowly sitting up, folding his legs in front of him and reaching for Kurt's hands. "Can I ask why? So we don't do it again?" 

His voice is wrecked, but more from concern now than anything else, Kurt can tell.

Kurt buttons his shirt slowly, focusing on the task to center himself. When everything is back in place, even the rumpled waves of hair at the back of his head where Blaine's fingers had been, he feels less panicky. 

"I feel like maybe I--um." He swallows, laces their fingers together and looks at Blaine directly. His face burns. "I'm not sure if we're on the same page any more. South of the equator doesn't seem to matter much now that we've--" He huffs out a breath, eyelids fluttering, voice scratchy and wanting when it comes next. "Blaine, I can't stop thinking about it, and I want more. But I don't want to freak you out."

Blaine's eyes tick over his rapidly. "This--every time you're, um, in charge--like last week, and tonight--I notice that you always--so fast." He traces the back of Kurt's knuckle. "Do you--do you prefer--that, is that why things get out of control?"

Oh my god. 

Kurt shivers, feeling his body perk up again. The answer to that question is obviously yes, but he struggles with searching for qualifiers because it can't be that simple, can it? 

Whenever given the chance to control their make-out sessions he always reacts so strongly. His body gets ahead of him every time and his desire to go slowly, to keep things as innocent as possible, dissolves.

He likes being in control. A lot. 

The truth is, both he and Blaine are control freaks in overlapping but often dissimilar ways. Where control makes Kurt feel better through and through and as a general life concept, he has noticed that Blaine often enjoys letting his own version of that same control slip when they're together and intimate. There's a faint struggle there in him that Kurt has noticed, times when he stammers and talks and rationalizes and Kurt listens and encourages him and Blaine just goes limp with pleasure.

It's happened almost every time since they started heavy petting. Why hasn't Kurt realized this until now?

"I think I do," Kurt says. "Do you--is that okay? I don't want this to be some weird, unbalanced thing."

Blaine's cheeks go red again. He ducks his face, then lifts it, chewing his lip. "I like it," he breathes, lips parting. "I really, really like it, Kurt. Is that why you needed to stop? Because you weren't sure if I did?"

"Mostly," Kurt answers, smiling.

Blaine is quiet for a moment, fingers playing with Kurt's. "I was close, too," he admits, smiling shyly. 

 

 

*

 

 

The next time that they're alone and frantic, they are in the backseat of Kurt's car. It's unplanned and probably a terrible idea, but the restaurant is closed and the parking lot abandoned and Blaine had been kissing just below his ear when they'd settled in the car and Kurt hadn't been able to stop himself from tugging Blaine over the center console.

They have one hour until curfew.

Something about tonight, about the compilation of hours of Blaine's warm, heavy glances and careful touches on Kurt's arm, leg, and back, something in the air or maybe the damned lunar cycle, Kurt has no idea; he's just been on a hair trigger all night, flushed and squirming.

Not to mention it's been yet another long week of nothing but quick kisses and hugs and it's never enough.

Blaine is under him, shirt untucked and unbuttoned, and Kurt is nosing his way down, licking skin and cloth alike, pushing the shirt higher around Blaine's torso. Blaine's hands are securely on Kurt's ass and the way it feels, warm and exploratory; he almost can't deal with it. 

He's been rubbing himself against the seat cushions since they started and he's already so desperate.

"Can I, is that okay," Blaine gasps into his hair, rubbing harder. "God, Kurt."

"Yes," Kurt whimpers as Blaine's fingers sort of slide up the seam, finding the divide between his cheeks. He's not one hundred percent on where that's going to go but his ass is ridiculously sensitive and he's not about to tell Blaine to stop, especially not after weeks of Blaine shying away from it.

By the time that Blaine's shirt is off and Kurt's mouth has discovered and begun mapping his perky little nipples, Blaine has one hand down the back of Kurt's pants--belt undone, unbuttoned but still on--above his underwear but closer, kneading his cheeks and teasing the slit between.

Kurt slides up higher between Blaine's legs and rocks their pelvises together. Blaine's hands spasm against him, grasp and tug; the motion of Blaine dragging him by the literal seat of his pants between his legs is enough to make Kurt's whole body twitch.

"Blaine," he gasps.

"Too fast?"

"Are you okay with this?"

Blaine presses up into him, letting him feel just how far gone he is. "Does that answer your question?"

Kurt whines, biting at the sweaty bend of Blaine's neck. "Keep doing what you were doing?"

They go back to that, long warm minutes of kissing and rocking together, Blaine's hands working over his ass and down the backs of his thighs and back up and over his lower back. 

It feels stupidly good; every inch of his body is tingling or throbbing or both.

He fumbles in between them. "Can I unbutton your pants?"

"Please," Blaine whines.

Once they're able to press together with just underwear between them, the relief makes it easier, slows things down a little. Kurt goes back to kissing Blaine everywhere that he can reach, trying to not be shy about using his tongue and teeth, though he always has to remind himself that this is okay, that he can do this, it isn't gross or weird, Blaine likes it. 

Blaine's fingers are so close to where Kurt wants them, but Kurt is embarrassed to ask for it.

And then they dance over the waistband of his briefs and he whimpers.

Blaine goes still. "Okay?"

Kurt thrusts between Blaine's thighs, rubbing their erections together. "Touch me there."

"Here?" Blaine asks, running his fingertip along the indentations that the elastic band has left on Kurt's waist. He creeps lower, tracing the sweaty curve of Kurt's left cheek. "Here?"

"Blaine--"

"Oh my god, you're shaking so hard--" His teeth close around Kurt's lower lip; they're both shaking.

Kurt breathes out roughly, thrusting again, making Blaine's body and the whole car shake. He snakes a hand back and around Blaine's--not knowing how to say it, not wanting to use those words--and clumsily presses Blaine's fingers between his cheeks. He's sweaty and feels gross, but it's too late to take it back.

Blaine makes a noise. "Kurt?"

"Please," Kurt says. "Unless you don't want to--"

His fingers are just there, hovering nervously over Kurt's entrance. Kurt quakes, sensations lashing up and down his spine. His cock is literally throbbing in his underwear, ready to go over the edge at the next hint of friction.

"Show me," Blaine says.

Kurt drags Blaine's hand back up to his mouth without thinking. If he thinks he's going to panic or die of embarrassment and he needs this so badly that he doesn't even consider those options. He pushes Blaine's first three fingers into his mouth, gets them wet with fast, hurried spit-filled suckles.

Blaine stares at him, eyes wide with lust and shock.

When Kurt lets those fingers go with a wet pop, he breathes out roughly, "Please?"

The only response is a rough kiss that takes away his ability to think. 

Blaine's fingers are sticky against his skin and then they're right back where Kurt wants them, and Blaine is stroking soft circles down over him but it's not enough.

"Harder," he whimpers, cheeks burning, hips twitching.

Blaine presses, and presses, and presses, and the sensation that results is almost enough to trigger the orgasm that Kurt has been holding back for twenty minutes now. His hips churn restlessly.

"Kurt," Blaine moans, rocking up into him. "God. Is this how you want to--" He gasps when Kurt begins grinding down against him, high between his thighs, making his legs bend.

It takes Kurt a full sixty seconds to work up the courage to push out the words, "Inside me, please?"

"Oh. Oh--" It's rough and sudden but he does it, crooking a finger and all it takes is Kurt thrusting back and it just--goes in, filling him up and that's all it takes, his body seizes up all at once. His eyelids flutter closed and he comes in his underwear, squirming and gasping.

"Sh-should I--"

"No just, rub--rub me inside, a little?"

"Oh my god, Kurt, you feel--"

It's too much. Not enough. The weird burn, the way it stretches him open--Blaine has beautiful, perfect fingers, is all Kurt can think as Blaine gently works the single digit in and out. It feels so good. 

Blaine slows down, kisses him, his jaw, his neck, as he gently strokes. "Like that?"

"Yeah, that's--perfect--" He loses his train of thought again, too busy rolling his pelvis into Blaine's finger, feeling his cock twitch and soften but only halfway.

"Can I make you, um, again?" Blaine asks, sliding his free hand between them and tracing a line down Kurt's sweaty belly. "If I--If I touched you, could you--come again?"

"Not sure."

"Can I try?" Blaine asks, sweet and high and playful.

It takes a long time, is all Kurt recalls later. Blaine's hand around his spent cock and a second finger eased inside of Kurt's body, a lot of grinding and panting and sweating, and in the end it's only a dribble and a lot of blind, pulsing sensation but Kurt does have another rather intense orgasm.

He could sleep for days after that, but Blaine...

"You're amazing," Kurt breathes. Now that it's over the embarrassment is coming back in waves; he's been very selfish and Blaine so patient.

Blaine discreetly wipes off on his pants, kissing him. "I love making you feel good. Every time you ask for something it's always so good, I just--keep asking, okay?"

He blames his orgasm-soaked brain for his response to that request.

"I want you inside of me," he says, right there against Blaine's lips like a prayer. He can feel his body literally clench, loose and achy, at the mere thought of it. 

Blaine's chest rises and falls sharply beneath him. "N-now?"

"No, no, god no, I just--wanted you to know. And see if--you wanted that, too. Maybe soon?"

"Of course I do. Oh, my god. Just. Not tonight. We need things, and--"

Kurt kisses him quiet, breathes just as quietly. "I know. I know. You're right." He shifts a little, kissing Blaine's neck. "I want to make you feel good, too. Um." He swallows, sitting up a little. "What--what would you like?" They've never really had to ask before; the beauty of rubbing off on each other is that no words are needed, but now...

Blaine's sweaty face is flushed again, nervous at the edges as Kurt sits up between his spread legs. His eyes drift as if drawn without his consent, taking in the line of Kurt's body, the bare shoulders and undone pants and damp underwear.

"Just your hand? I--I kind of want to, um, watch."

Kurt strokes his stomach, then his hips, breathing out in the thick, stuffy backseat. "Okay."

There's something downright filthy about it, gently peeling him out of his boxer-briefs, feeling the intense fix of his gaze as Kurt begins gently stroking him. They've never actually done that, not fully skin to skin, and the way he feels, hard and full and thick at the tip, makes Kurt's mouth fill with saliva.

He watches Blaine breathe faster, watches him arch up into Kurt's fist when it starts to go faster. He watches Blaine just give in to it as the moments tick by, face twisted up with embarrassment and nervousness but still so sweetly eager that Kurt grows playful, twisting and tugging in different ways until Blaine is lost, whining his name and thrusting aimlessly.

God, he's beautiful.

He claws Kurt's forearm, head thrown back. "Kurt."

"Yeah?"

"Close."

"Do you want me to slow down?"

His head thrashes from side to side. "No no please, please, feels good." 

The excitement is painfully mutual; if Kurt hadn't come twice already he would definitely be hardening again, but as it is the throb of Blaine in his hand is enough to make his skin go sweaty and his heart race. 

He wants to see it, he wants to feel it, he wants the sticky wetness all over his fingers so badly.

He has a feeling that the sight of Blaine sprawled out below him, half undressed, pants gaping around his hips, cock full and rosy in Kurt's fist, is not going to be forgotten any time soon.

Blaine's fist curls around his forearm, fingernails digging in, and he pulls faster, listening to the wet squelch of his fingers smearing the wetness leaking from the tip of Blaine's cock all over the shaft.

"Don't stop," Blaine begs, hips snapping. "Don't--don't--oh--oh---" He comes silently, mouth gaping, soaking Kurt's fingers with slow gushes. The slit gapes and he just keeps coming, making it shine with wetness, and god, Kurt's hand is covered with pearly strands.

"Oh my god," Kurt breathes, overwhelmed by how sexy it is. He'd always thought of this part with detachment, not sure if he could enjoy all the mess, but now...

Blaine's broken little whimpers and shattered expression make his body ache.

They don't move or do anything other than breathe together for a few moments, and then Blaine breathes into the silence, "I have tissues in my--bag."

The cleanup isn't awkward at all, just deliberate, and after the worst of it is taken care of and they help each other back into their clothes, Kurt kisses Blaine's temple and draws him close.

"I always imagined this happening on a bed of silk," Kurt sighs in mocking judgement of them both, gesturing vaguely between them, "flowers, candles."

Blaine smiles, nudging him. "Hey. We--still have a lot of firsts to cross off our list. And I fully intend to come armed with silk, flowers, and candles when we finally have the privacy to--to go there." He kisses Kurt's jaw. "Until then, I just want this--us. Is that okay?"

"Very okay," Kurt answers, smiling.


End file.
